


Where the Bluebirds Sing

by MooseFeels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Castiel, Curses, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is beginning to think he should just leave the witches be and let the general public suffer, because he's endured enough public suffering, generally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean is getting damn tired of witches. He’s getting damn tired of Disney princess based curses and sex curses and musical curses. He’s beginning to think maybe he should just let them do what they’re going to do, because he and Cas and Sam are getting a little too acquainted with breaking curses.

So Dean really wants to believe that nothing happened when the witch goes out in a great flash of light and a screamed word.

Dean braces himself against a wall as great force sweeps through the room. His head is knocked back sharply and painfully. He blinks several times, and then it’s all done.

"Dean?" Cas calls, worried. "Dean, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he answers. The room is dark, but his vision is still blurred and spotted. "Yeah, I’m fine. Little blinded but it’s not too bad."

"Blinded?" Castiel demands. "What happened? How many fingers am I holding up?"

Dean blinks a few more times, and it clears a little- just enough that he can see the blurred shape of Castiel.

He’s changed since he’s fallen. He still has the trenchcoat, but it’s in a hanger in his closet. He favors layers- jackets and hoodies and shirts over shirts. Apparently his body doesn’t hold heat the right way. He gets cold easily. He gets sick easily. He gets injured easily. He’s weirdly fragile. At the intensity of a hunt, he’s invincible and hard and tough, but after he falls apart.

Dean blinks enough that he can tell Castiel is basically unscathed. There’s a scrape along his cheek but it’s nothing major.

"Dean?"Castiel repeats.

Dean’s vision has cleared just enough that he can watch something happen to Castiel.

It’s like watching a flower bloom slowly. Something huge and dark curls at the top of Castiel’s head and then unfurls like two great ribbons.

Ears. They’re rabbit ears.

"Cas?" Dean asks weakly, and then he feels his concussion rear up and he passes out.

Sam has a flashlight in his eyes when Dean comes back to. “Oh thank god,” Sam murmurs. “So you probably don’t have brain damage if you stay awake for the next eight hours. Also something is wrong with Cas.”

Dean sits up and he has a righteous headache. “Where is he?” he asks. “What’s up?”

Sam hands him two aspirin and a cup of coffee. “So he refuses to come out of the closet and he won’t stop asking questions about you. He also…uh, Dean, he has rabbit ears.”

Dean stands up and he looks from his bed to his closet.

He knocks on the door. “Hey, Cas?” He calls. “I hear that you’ve got some new…um…head gear.”

"Don’t make me come out," he answers. "I don’t want to. Please. It’s not safe."

Dean looks at Sam. Sam shrugs, helpless.

"Do you think you could open the door for me? You don’t have to come out, I just want to get a look at you. Okay? Ain’t seen your pretty face all day and want to make sure you’re not scuffed up too bad."

There’s a long pause and then a click as a lock is turned.

Dean opens the door gently.

Castiel sits on the floor of the closet with his arms around his knees. His face is red and damp from crying. He has a blanket hitched up over his shoulders.

The rabbit ears Dean thought he had hallucinated drape from his head to his shoulders.

Dean looks up at the ceiling and then sits down, facing Castiel.

"How d’you feel, angel?" he asks.

"My- my cheek hurts," he sniffles. Dean does not notice how his nose twitches. "And, god, Dean, I’m so scared. I’m so scared." He looks up at Dean, his blue eyes bloodshot from crying. "I just…I suddenly realized that the world was so big and so scary. I feel small."

"Prey animals," Sam says, and then he rushes out of the room.

Dean stands up and turns on a lamp. He turns off the overhead light and pulls a blanket off the bed. A couple of pillows.

He puts a couple of the pillows in the closet and sits down next to Castiel. Pulls the blanket over their heads.

It’s golden and dim and close. A burrow. A hutch.

Castiel wipes his nose along his sleeve. He smiles.

"This is nice," he says.

"Sam’s in the library working on breaking this," Dean murmurs. "Until then, we’ll just hang out here."

Castiel nods. His nose twitches. He leans forward and kisses Dean on the cheek. “You always make me feel safe,” he says.

* * *

Castiel falls asleep with his head in Dean’s lap about an hour later. His long ears flop over Dean’s knees, the vulnerable pink interiors exposed outward to the air.

His ears root closely to his scalp, and they’re covered with dense, soft fur. It’s the same color as his dark hair. Dean strokes them gently. Castiel twitches in his sleep.

Dean feels his headache flare back up. He’s got another six or so hours before he can sleep if he’s going to avoid brain damage. He doesn’t feel that tired, he just feels heavy.

Thick.

Dean hates concussions.

Sam walks gingerly into the room and looks down. He raises an eyebrow.

Dean sighs- sharp and brief. He strokes his thumb lightly over Castiel’s cheekbone. Castiel blinks awake, groggy.

“Hey, bunny,” Dean murmurs. “I gotta talk to Sam. Do you think you would feel okay in the bed, or do you want to stay here?”

Castiel glances at the bed and he says, “Can I go to the bed?”

Dean nods. They both stagger upright and Castiel falls heavily onto the bed. Dean throws covers over him makes sure he gets settled in deep. He leaves the door open as he walks out of the room with Sam.

“So,” his brother says, “get this. The curse, it’s not just rabbit ears-”

“It’s anxiety, yeah,” Dean interrupts.

“No it’s not just that. It’s this whole song and dance. He’s going to exhibit prey behaviors- flight instincts, easy to startle....aggressive procreation.” Sam’s voice cracks around the last one.

“He can’t get pregnant can he?” Dean asks.

Sam shakes his head. “No, he can’t. You can’t. But he’s going to want to fuck like, well, like a rabbit.”

Dean gazes up at the ceiling. Consulting an absent man upstairs. “How do we break it?” Dean asks.

“I’m not sure,” Sam says. “I’m still working on it, but for now, we should probably be kind of gentle with Cas. He’s, ah, he’s probably more than a little delicate right now. Okay?”

Dean pulls at his own hair and nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, okay. You wanna hit the hay while I do some reading?”

Sam nods. “Yeah,” he answers. “The drive back was pretty rough. Between you concussed and Castiel’s ongoing panic attack, it was a little trying.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, go hunker down. I’ll hold the fort for for the next few hours.”

Sam nods and slinks off to his room.

Dean stands in the doorway of his own room and looks at the bed. Castiel is curled up in a tight ball under the blankets. Only the bare edge of his dark ears poke out above the edge of the blanket.

Dean shakes his head and walks back to the libaray.

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Castiel wakes up, his heart is thundering in his chest. Panic seizes his muscles deep, makes him want to stop breathing.

And then he stops holding his breath and he remembers- curse. Rabbit. Panic.

This too shall pass.

He sits up in the bed. The lamp is still on next to him, and mid-afternoon light comes through the windows that hug along the ceiling. It’s bright and clean in there- blue and yellow light.

Castiel takes a long deep breath and closes his eyes. He exhales to a count of ten  until his heartbeat slows down, and then he pulls back the blankets and steps gingerly out onto the floor.

The floor is cold, he thinks. It’s concrete, it’ll be cold. Dean and Sam keep it swept, there won’t be any glass. You’re safe. It’s okay.

He works his way gently from the bedroom, down the hall. His hand slides along the wall, going past Sam’s room, where he hears his deep breaths, resonant like a bass beat. There’s a lot more sound to the world right now, a lot more texture. Castiel hears the beginnings of congestion in his chest, he hears the whistle of his nose, he hears the shift of the blankets on top of his body.

He keeps walking, and he suddenly hears the dry rasp of a page turning. He stops- he freezes, and then he hears it again.

“Dean?” he calls down the hall. There is no response. “Dean?” he calls once more, a little louder.

“Cas?” he calls back, and Castiel feels his heart slow down. “Hey, you up?”

Castiel comes out of the hallway, and Dean is sitting on the floor, a great halo of papers spread around him. He looks up as Castiel walks in and smiles slightly. He also yawns hugely. “Hey,” he says, “What’s up?”

“I just woke up,” he answers. “I was in bed, and then I got scared and I had to get up.” He looks at the books and folders and papers. “Any luck?”

Dean shakes his head. “Not really. There aren’t really any instances of this happening and hunting is ah...it’s mostly built on precedent.”

Castiel plops down next to Dean, his back against a heavy piece of furniture. “No wonder Sam wanted to go into law,” he says.

Dean smiles at him, chuckles a little. “I didn’t really think of that,” he murmurs. He scratches the back of his own neck and looks at Castiel. His eyes rest on his ears for a few moments. “Still panicky?”

Castiel nods, and he self-conciously grabs his ear. It feels weird. It’s soft and silky under his hands. He feels blood pulse under his fingertips. He fights some weird urge to suck on the tips of them. “Yes,” he says.

Dean looks at him, tired and sad and worried, and then he sighs. He scoots over and wraps his hand over Castiel’s shoulders, pulling him in close.

Dean is warm and safe next to him, and Castiel nuzzles against him. “You smell nice,” he says. “And you sound sturdy.”

Dean chuckles. “I’m glad,” he says. “I think I can fall asleep now, but my headache is a real bitch. I don’t know if I could actually sleep.”

Castiel holds his hand, fingers lacing tight into his. His stomach growls suddenly.

“You want some carrots?” Dean asks.

“Rabbits are known to bite,” Castiel retorts.

Dean chuckles again. “I’ll fix something up for you. Come on.”

They both get up and head into the kitchen, Dean holding Castiel’s hand firmly.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel fiddles with his shirt as he stands in the kitchen. He looks dreadfully worried. He’s nibbling at his lower lip.

“We’ve done this before,” Dean says gently. “It’s just eggs. Look, okay, we’ve got the bowl and the fork. We’ve got the pan on the stove and the butter. Salt and pepper. It’s just scrambled eggs, okay? It’s gonna sound a lot louder than it actually is, okay? It’s just eggs.”

Castiel nods at him a couple of times, almost too eager. “Okay,” he says softly.

Dean cracks the egg into the bowl and whisks it sharply. Castiel gasps briefly but maintains his composure. Dean switches the gas on, and Castiel actually whimpers. Transfixed by the flame.

“It’s okay,” Dean says, pouring the eggs into the hot butter. “It’s totally okay.”

“I’d-I’d like to go sit down,” Castiel murmurs.

Dean nods. “Go ahead. I’ll bring you your plate once you’re done. Don’t worry.”

Castiel sighs heavily. “But it’s so hard.”

“I know,” Dean says.

Castiel sits down at the kitchen table and he lays his head on the table. His ears flop to either side of his face. Dean smiles at him a little bit.

Things with Castiel have been strange as of late. Castiel makes Dean feel bright and soft and clear. He feels like the spring, like a great resurgence of sweet and new things. It’s not just the rabbit ears, either. It’s the way his eyes fall on things. He looks at everything like it’s brand new and a treasure. He looks at pavement and chewing gum and beer cans the same way he looks at robins and green grass and the sky. The stars and paper bags. Oak trees and socks. He’s amazed by all of it.

He looks at Dean that way most of all, though, and it makes Dean want to hold him.

With the exception of a guy named Don in New Mexico, Dean’s never really experimented with guys much. He’s had a few crushes here and there (look if you’re not into Nathan Fillion what the hell is wrong with you?), but he’s never really pursued a man before. He’s not sure how to feel about Cas though- is Cas even a man? He’s an angel. He’s a fallen angel, but does that make him a dude? Does that make Dean gay or bisexual or pansexual or queer or whatever?

Staying awake that six hours wasn’t all curse-related research.

He plates the eggs and gives them to Castiel.

Castiel looks up at him and he smiles.

It’s bright and clear, like the March sunlight. It’s a whole world.

Dean smiles back, and he knows that it doesn’t really matter what he is- he’s the guy who loves Cas.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Sam leaves the apartment to do research at the university library, so Castiel and Dean stay in and put on a movie. Or at least, they’re trying to.

“Your choice,” Dean says. “Go nuts.”

Castiel looks at the array of discs and tapes before him and he looks more than a little concerned. “They all look so...it looks like there’s so much conflict in all of them,” he says. “I don’t know if I could...I don’t want to cry or have another attack.”

Dean nods. His jaw is a little tight, which is understandable. Castiel understands that he’s frustrating like this- that he’s more than frustrating, he’s impossible.

“How about this?” Dean says, bending over. He pulls up some romantic comedy. “Not sure why the men o’ letters would have this, but it can’t be too bad. No monsters, no explosions, no Bruce Willis. And if you get too worried about the couple, you can just know that these things always end happily. That’s like...half of the game.” He smiles a little. “Come on, I’ll hold your hand.”

He winds up holding more than his hand, though, he winds up with Castiel in his lap all teared up over Julia Roberts and some dick with dark hair and nuzzling against his neck and winding his hands through Dean’s hair.

“You okay?” Dean asks.

“I feel really,” he answers, “tight? Like I have lots of energy.”

Dean looks up at Castiel’s face and he does look a little different, a little like he’s glowing. His skin is flushed, his eyes are wide, his lips are pink and bitten. Dean can nearly see Castiel’s heartbeat as a vein in his body. He looks suddenly so...so pretty and so fertile.

Dean swallows.

Castiel leans forward.

Dean leans forward.

They kiss.

Suddenly, nothing is slow or innocent. Julia Roberts and the romantic comedy are forgotten and all that remains is this terrible, thundering need. Dean runs his hands all over Castiel, from his head and his ears down his shoulders to his hips. Castiel’s hands flutter over his body and shake and tear and pluck at clothing.

“I feel strange,” he murmurs shakily. “I feel like I’ve never felt before.”

Dean kisses against him and keeps kissing him. “Do you want to take this to a bed?” Dean asks. “Or do you want me to stop?” He stops kissing him and looks at him. “Ball is in your court.”

Castiel looks down on Dean, and then something becomes terribly familiar- something about it makes Dean feel like he’s being shaken apart, makes something in his shoulder hurt, makes it feel like he can’t breathe.

“Bed,” Castiel says.

They stumble and move messily from the couch to the bedroom- to Dean’s bedroom. Castiel kisses him manically, like a frenzy, and Dean holds onto Castiel like he is the only source of oxygen in the world.

Dean throws Castiel down on the bed, or he would if he weren’t clinging to him so tightly. Castiel breathes suddenly and sharply and then sighs a little and then finally gets Dean out of his shirt more or less as Dean gets Castiel out of his button down jammies.

There must be another function of the curse or something, because there are little soft places of dark fur on Castiel’s chest and down his sides, like little spots that are covered with dense, soft fur. Freckles of it. Dean nuzzles at those spots, on top of Castiel, and Castiel whimpers happily as Dean moves lower and lower down. Dean keeps nuzzling, actually, it’s like he can’t stop. It’s like something about Castiel has brought out thing nurturing, clingy thing inside of him and he wants to kiss Castiel (so he does) and he wants to nuzzle his nose on his body (so he does) and he wants to hold him (so he does).

Castiel’s growing erection becomes another thing Dean wants to touch, so Dean pulls down Castiel’s pants gently and gently buries his face in the messy nest of pubic hair and rabbit fur that Castiel’s cock is risen from.

Turns out he has a little tail, too, in the back where Dean has wrapped his hand around.

Castiel’s breathing picks up tempo, picks up pace and he’s panting now.

“Dean,” he says, “Dean wait.”

Dean stops and looks up.

Castiel’s turned pale suddenly, but he’s still panting. “Something’s wrong,” he says. His lips seem to be turning blue. “It hurts. Why does it hurt, it’s not supposed to.”

Dean sits up and pulls Castiel up too, but Castiel groans around the breaths he can’t seem to catch. “My heart,” Castiel says, “it hurts.”

“Okay,” Dean answers. “Okay, Cas, just hold on, I’m gonna get help.”

Dean finds himself more scared than he’s been in years.

 


End file.
